Worrying.
It’s probably the skill that I am the best at. As sad as that is.
It’s amazing how many things I worry about each week, and about 95% of them never happen.
I’m not really sure why I worry. And I’m not really sure how to stop. One strategy that used to work for me was to imagine there was a four burner stove in the back of my head and put the worries on the back burners. I’ve really been struggling to make that work right now.
Another great strategy is to set an amount of time to worry, and limit myself to that. Like, instead of continuously worrying that a doctor’s appointment is not going to go well, telling myself I can worry about it for five minutes and then I have to be done. It’s just I can’t. I’ve tried quite a few times, and I just can’t turn it off.
My life would be a lot more pleasant if I could stop worrying. I’m preventing myself from enjoying life. I’m spending so much time terrified of what’s going to go wrong that I’m forgetting to smile and laugh. Missing out on the times of joy. I even cry when I hear Christmas music because I’m just so overwhelmed.
One day it’s going to get better, though. That’s the only good thing about bipolar – it doesn’t last forever. One day this depression will end and I’ll worry less – or at least my coping skills will work, and the whole world will look a little brighter.
I can’t wait for that day. That would be the best Christmas present ever.
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